Flaws
by serendipitice
Summary: A take on the aftermath of His Last Vow. Sherlock essentially moves Molly with him in Baker Street to ensure her safety which leads to a confession of his feelings or some sort. It's Sherlock, we all know he doesn't do feelings. (Sherlolly fluffy one-shot)


**A/N:** A little something I made based off Bastille's song, Flaws. Basically some Sherlolly fluff I can't quite get out of my head so I decided to write it down. This happens after His Last Vow. Hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. *sniffs*

* * *

_You have always worn your flaws upon your sleeves_

_And I have always buried them deep beneath the ground_

_Dig them up, let's finish what we started_

_Dig them up, so nothing's left unturned_

Sherlock looked at the sleeping form beside him. The gentle fall of her chest as she breathed soundly in her sleep soothes him. Her brown hair cascaded down her bare shoulder. Her pale skin illuminated under the light of the moon, slipping between the drapes of his bedroom window, reflecting the dust of freckles on her shoulder in minute details. Her face looked content. Quite the opposite from the state he found her in earlier when he went to check up on her.

He looked at the clock on his bedside table which read half past two in the wee hours of the morning. Figuring that sleep is going to evade him tonight, he recounted the happenings in the past 24 hours.

o-ooo-o

When Sherlock's plane landed, returning him from his supposed 'exile', he immediately asked Mycroft for an explanation and to question the fickle minds of those who are in charge of his banishment. The moment his brother mentioned Moriarty, Sherlock visibly stiffened and turned to look at Mary and John. Mary has assumed a look of uncertainty while John just nodded gravely.

Sherlock then turned towards the town car, idling by on the tarmac. Sure enough, when he got in, he saw the broadcast from the small telly inside the car. He barked orders to get him to St. Bart's as soon as possible all the while dialling a number on his mobile he knew too well.

It rang for a while before it was answered. Sherlock could clearly hear the distress of Molly's voice over the phone. He assured her that she would be safe, that he would not let anything happen to her. He instructed her to stay at the staff lounge where there are many people. And after another bout of promises made to her, he hang up and growled at the chauffer to drive faster.

John's words of assurance were for naught. They were completely ignored by Sherlock who was busy drumming his fingers against his thigh. He was too busy thinking of the possibilities regarding the whole situation of the return of Moriarty. The man should not be alive. The man _could not _be alive. He shot himself in front of Sherlock for god's sake. What are the chances that he could have faked his death as well?

Sherlock was nudged out from his thinking when the car suddenly came to a stop, indicating their arrival at St. Bart's. He rushed out from the car and went to find Molly.

When he did find her, sitting on a couch in the staff lounge, he expected a very scared Molly. Instead, when she saw him, she directly marched to him and asked questions. Demanding answers as to how it was even possible that Jim Moriarty was alive. Molly was frantic, visibly shaking after she threw question after question. Sherlock took hold of her shoulders to try and shake some sense into her, hoping it would also let him see sense and to figure out the whole debacle soon before someone he cares about gets hurt.

John and Mary finally found their way in the lounge and Mary took over. She silently patted Sherlock's hands away from Molly's shoulder to take care of her friend. Mary returned an agitated Molly on the couch, trying her best to reassure her, that she isn't alone and that she has her friends protecting her.

John, on the other hand was waiting for Sherlock's next move. He was asking for instructions but he just saw his best friend looking distraught while gazing at Molly. John has come to notice that it's around Molly that Sherlock Holmes brings his wall down. Other than the instances where he has found himself and the consulting detective in trying circumstances during dangerous cases, he sees that Sherlock was also human. But, nothing shows how human Sherlock is other than this moment right now.

When Molly finally calmed down, Sherlock walked towards her and told her his plan. She was to return to Baker Street with him where she can be safe and where Sherlock can watch over her easily. Sherlock was not taking any chances. He felt better looking after Molly's safety than entrusting it to Lestrade's men from the yard or Mycroft's men however competent they are. A brief look of uncertainty passed over Molly's features after hearing the plan but she just shrugged and nodded her head.

After dropping by Molly's flat to get an overnight bag, they returned to Baker Street with John, Mary and Mycroft. Mrs. Hudson has prepared dinner for them whilst waiting and all took to sit in the living room save for Mycroft and Sherlock who were in deep conversation in the kitchen. No one spoke as no one knows how to make the situation better.

After the discussion between the Holmes brothers, Sherlock made his way to the living room.

"Moriarty." He started. Everyone turned to look at him, all harbouring expectant looks.

"He's dead." He said, his voice taut.

"But the video…" John said.

"Have you not seen it clearly? It's some sort of edited image trying to put every Londoner on their wits' end. There is a high possibility that it is recycled footage from his previous excursions or what have you. You know how dramatic the man was." He looked at John at the last sentence.

"Okay, so if what you say is really the case, who made the broadcast?" Mary asked.

"Could be one of the people from his network."

"Hold on, I thought you've cleared that." John interjected.

"Well apparently, not." Sherlock said, annoyed. "So, I suggest everyone to be wary and careful. Mycroft is already working on tracing the broadcast signal. In the meantime, Molly…" Sherlock turned to look at Molly who hasn't said a thing since arriving at his flat.

"Wh-what?" she choked out.

"You're in danger. Surely, this person has already caught on that Moriarty slipped up."

"About what?"

"About you being the person who mattered the most."

Everyone was silent. No one expected those words from Sherlock. Molly was surprised at the fact that he would say those words again with an audience.

"Right." Mycroft cleared his throat. "If it makes you feel more comfortable, I'll have you know, Miss Hooper that I have doubled the people who are protecting you right now."

"You have people protecting me?" Molly asked, gobsmacked.

"Yes. It was Sherlock's idea."

"It was imperative. Especially for situations like this." Sherlock reasoned out.

"I'll have you know, if I wasn't really pregnant right now, I'd be doing a pretty damn good job at protecting Molly." Mary said jokingly. Molly turned to look at her, smiled and giggled a bit. It was nice that they were getting along well.

"Well, sorry to break it to you love, but you are pregnant. Like really, really pregnant. Best to stay at home. That's why Sherlock, I want to ask," John said.

"Mycroft has already taken care of it. No need to worry John. Everyone else's safety is secured as well." He assured.

"Yes. Everyone's security has been amplified. Do not worry. I'll be going now, Lady Smallwood is expecting me." Mycroft bid his goodbye and went off.

The rest of the night passed by without any other incidents. Molly changed to her night clothes and was accompanied by Mary at the living room to watch the telly. Sherlock and John were at the kitchen, calling Lestrade to fill him in on the plan. They also did some research and reviewed the footage in case something important went unseen.

Mary joined the boys at the kitchen after a while.

"Molly?" Sherlock asked without looking away from his laptop.

"Asleep. She's tired. Crap telly is apparently like sleeping pills for her." She smiled faintly. "John, are you still going to take a while?"

Before John can answer, Sherlock cut him off. "Bring Mary home, John. She's tired as well. And this kind of stress isn't helping."

"Will you be fine?" John asked.

Sherlock made dismissing motions with his hands. "Yes, yes. Now, go home and guard your wife. She may be adept at self-preservation and is an accomplished assassin but that skill is void until that little creature residing in her pops out."

"Very nicely put, Sherlock." Mary said sarcasm oozing out of her voice.

Sherlock just smirked.

"Okay. Whatever you say mate. I'll be here first thing in the morning to help. Everything will be fine, don't worry." John assured him.

John patted his back and Mary went to kiss Sherlock's cheek after which she whispered, "Be gentle with Molly. She's strong but she can be fragile."

"I know that." Sherlock pouted.

"Of course you do. 'Night!" Mary said then shut the door.

Sherlock sighed then went to the living room. She saw Molly huddled up in the couch, sleeping soundly. He gently pushed away loose tendrils of her hair that tickled her face. Deciding that the couch wouldn't be the most comfortable for her, he figured, it was better to carry her to his room than to John's. He wouldn't want to jostle her and disturb her out of her deep slumber. He carried her effortlessly and laid her down on his bed.

Sherlock stretched his slightly sore muscles. It has been a while since he has taken to sleep fully. And after the whole ordeal of the day, he might as well get a full rest in order to face this case suitably. And somehow, he also can't find himself leaving Molly alone. So, he changed from his suit and donned on his silk pyjamas and wore a plain white shirt then settled on the other side of the bed. Remembering the way he catalogued the sleeping form of Molly Hooper beside him and how perfect it felt.

o-ooo-o

He was cut from his thoughts with a light, feather-like sensation on his cheek. He snapped back to the present and looked down at Molly who was stroking his cheek lightly. He revelled in the warmth her touch brought. They continued looking at each other in the silence, lying on their sides.

"You seem troubled." Molly said after a while, thinking belatedly that it was a rather stupid question.

"I am troubled." He replied. Molly withdrew her hand and bit her lower lip, looking guilty.

"I'm so-" she started.

"Don't say you're sorry." He interrupted her. "It's not your fault, Molly. You didn't do anything wrong."

"But Sherlock, I'm bothering people. No one would be-" Molly once again failed to finish her sentence when Sherlock brushed his thumb over her lips to shut her up. Sherlock gave a small smile as he noticed, even in the darkness, the faint blush creeping up her cheeks.

"Molly, what must I do to assure you that you are not a bother? You're important. You matter, Molly. Don't forget that. And whatever this whole ordeal is, it's not your fault." he said softly but firmly and she nodded in return. He then proceeded to guide his hand from her lips towards her hair and started to stroke it. Somehow, they found themselves closer together, with Molly resting her head over Sherlock's chest whilst he continued stroking her brown tresses.

Sherlock has held Molly in his arms before. It was after she helped him in 'the fall'. Both of them were exhausted then after executing the plan. Much has happened and it has taken its toll on Sherlock even emotionally (he admitted to himself, quite hesitantly). They had agreed to share Molly's bed and before fatigue overtook their drained bodies, they have found comfort in each other's arms. And much to Sherlock's amusement (who found the whole ordeal a bit ironic considering his stand on physical contact) he discovered that night that sometimes, human contact can be calming. They had a silent and mutual understanding that they needed each other that night, even if it was just their presence, their frames pressed together, only their night clothes separating their clothed skin. Even if it was just an infinitesimal reminder and reassurance that amidst everything that happened, there will still be a sense of normalcy after his supposed death. That Molly would still be there for him.

The morning after followed and found Molly and Sherlock ignoring and not talking about the night of comfort both had found with each other. They have decided (hesitantly) that it was best to overlook it. Besides, Sherlock started to work on the normalcy thing by saying, "Coffee would be nice." In which Molly responded with a smile and proceeded to make his cup of black coffee with two sugars.

But right now, Sherlock was surprised with the amount of physical contact he's giving Molly considering the sentimental and emotional ties Molly has felt for him in the past. He fully knows that he might be giving Molly some ideas that she might wrongly read into but he doesn't care. What he cares about now is the possibility that this woman, might be taken away from him.

He's being un-_Sherlock_ (as John would like to put it) in his own way, he realised, but he doesn't give a damn. He was positive that it had something to do with sentiment. He had deduced in the past that caring is a disadvantage. That sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side. And it was. Irene Adler could attest to that. If sentiment turned him into a nervous wreck, then he doesn't need it. But then, it's sentiment that empowered him to take care of his friends.

"Sherlock?" Molly asked softly.

"Yes?"

"Will everything be alright?"

He exhaled deeply.

"It will be… It should be."

Sherlock felt Molly frown at his choice of words.

"That's… nice to know." She said reluctantly.

"Molly, you wound me with your lack of faith in me." He said, sounding hurt.

Molly whipped up her head to look at him, worried that her comment was received as an insult. But she saw Sherlock hiding his smile.

"That was rude." She scolded, but grinned.

"Everything will be alright." Sherlock said firmly. Molly has heard countless assurances from her friends and Sherlock, but even with that, it helps her feel safe. Even if it entails no concrete guarantees.

"Besides, we have seen him play his games before. We know vital things about Moriarty." He reasoned out.

"_You _know vital things about Moriarty." Molly corrected.

"Oh? I did hear someone say that Moriarty is rather fond of watching _Glee._ That's pretty vital. A point for our advantage."

Molly giggled at this and Sherlock grinned at the sound. After the dramatic and stressful day, he figured they needed to lighten things up.

"It's good to have you back though." Molly said as soon as she calmed herself down.

"Likewise." Sherlock tried hard not to think of the double meaning his response implied.

"How long will I stay here?"

"At the moment, it's indefinite. Mycroft and I still have to deal with other things. I hope you understand why I prefer it more if you stay here."

"Yes, you've explained much earlier." She sighed. "Is John's bedroom cleared out? I can bunk over his room during the duration of my stay."

Sherlock looked at her incredulously.

"Why would you want to stay at his old room?" he asked.

"Well, I just figured that it will be practical you know because you have an extra room in your flat and this is _your _bedroom after all and..." Molly was babbling now.

"Wouldn't it make more sense if you just stayed here in my room?"

"I just thought this arrangement right now is just a one-time thing. And besides, where would you stay?"

Sherlock gave her a look.

"You mean, here. With me. You with me. Oh." She looked flustered and Sherlock found it endearing.

"If it's okay with you then sure." She said quietly.

"I trust you, Sherlock. You'll end this soon enough with John." She added.

Sherlock's chest tightened (in a good way) at her words. This woman's loyalty is something incomparable to anything he knew. And Sherlock felt like he was a hit and run victim.

'_Caring is losing' be damned._

The care, worry and trust she gives for him, he's not worthy of it. Not after the way he had manipulated her during the times he needed something from her. He cares for her deeply and that is true and he acknowledges that she has a very special place in his mind palace and in his heart (might as well get used to referring to it). He has hurt her numerous times and he's sure he can't avoid doing that in the future. So no, this woman, this amazing, beautiful, intelligent woman in his arms can't be with him no matter how much it pains him to think so.

But, Sherlock Holmes has always been a selfish man. He always gets what he wants. In this matter though, as it is new territory altogether, he is willing to _try_ everything to get what he wants and not force anyone on this matter.

He took a deep breath, trying to piece every emotion, every word he wants to say.

Molly noticed his changed demeanour and looked up at him.

"Anything the matter? Well, other than the whole Moriarty-is-alive deal." She asked with a teasing tone.

"_Might _be alive_._ And no, nothing is the matter. Just," he gestured lamely with his free hand. "having epiphanies."

"Oh? Nothing bad, I hope."

"On contrary. Quite."

Silence.

"Is it…"

"Listen well, Doctor Molly Hooper. You might not hear me say these things again as it isn't exactly my forte." Sherlock said suddenly getting serious.

"I find myself being cut off quite frequently tonight." She mused. Sherlock frowned and she giggled a bit, sitting up along with him on the bed in order for them to talk properly. She nodded her head and prodded Sherlock to continue.

"I'm saying this not just because of the possibility that Moriarty or some of his men are back and that everyone I know, myself included is in grave danger. The thing is, Molly, the possibility of danger or death follows us every day, so I might as well say this right now. I care Molly. I do. Quite difficult to get a grasp of but it seems that even I can succumb to something called 'sentiment'."

Sherlock continued, "Much as I loathe to admit it, Molly. I'm flawed. I have limits. I can't assure you that I won't hurt you. That I won't ignore things that are supposed to be special. But I can try, Molly. I'm willing to learn. If you give me the time. And I know considering the way you have endured me for the past years, I'm hoping you can extend your patience for me more. I want us to be something Molly. Something more."

"I expected much Sherlock. You're pretty unconventional. Considering that you're saying all of these now. A bit horrible timing you have." Sherlock's face visibly depleted at her words.

"But. It's a wonderful flaw. That's how I saw you. That's who I loved. The person who had flaws. And to think that you just admitted it, that you said you're willing to learn to try this with me, it made me love you even more." At that, both Molly and Sherlock shared smiles.

"So, does this mean…" Sherlock started as his face inched closer to hers.

"We are something." Molly smiled at him and Sherlock thought he had never seen her that beautiful before.

"Something more I hope." Sherlock said before his lips met Molly's in a soft kiss.

It wasn't Sherlock's first time kissing anyone for that matter. But kissing Molly Hooper was a different experience altogether. She's warm, soft and sweet. She's _homey_. Sherlock smiled slightly at the word. It was a very domestic word and he wasn't a domestic man. But then, Sherlock never was a physical person and he's kissing the person who mattered most to him now. He's changed in a way. And it's safe to say that he changed for the better. All because of mousy Molly Hooper. His pathologist. His special someone. His home. His heart.

When they broke off their kiss, they laid back on the bed. Molly's head on Sherlock's chest, his arm secured around Molly's, their free hands playing with each other's.

"Now that we have that settled. Let's just establish a couple of things. No more broken engagements with second-grade – no, Tom was more stupid and dull than that, – third-grade look-alikes. No more fake relationships for cases, no more drug-addled states. Just this." Sherlock said to her hair.

Molly laughed lightly and nodded. "Just this."


End file.
